


For those who stay

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2322473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mandalore’s new duchess is assigned Jedi protectors</p>
            </blockquote>





	For those who stay

The newly-appointed Duchess of Mandalore prefers to engage in discourse rather than detonators. She is good at it. It is what her father taught her; it is her realm.

Yet words failed her this time; there is disarray and violence. It doesn’t mean she’s going to stop trying.

She, as well as the remains of her council, awaits her new security detail in a remote corner of the hangar bay, away from prying eyes. She retreads the argument with the most senior minister present. It’s never too late to change their mind.

“I do not need protection, truly. I’ve only just inherited the system. Yes, my position is precarious, but let me win the love of the people, _without_ lightsabers at my side.”

“It is not just unruly Mandalorians you need to worry about. We are not a beloved system in the Republic. You can be sure that there are others who will not forget the deaths caused by Mandalorians. Threats have been made against your person. These are uncertain times, and they almost certainly will get worse.” He finishes, firmly, if condescendingly, “Better safe than dead.”

The vestiges of the war hang over everything. It is why she stands here today in less-than-formal attire, eking out an existence not befitting of the position of Mandalore, waiting for guardians to protect her from undetermined, shadowy threats.

( _Threats. Always threats, but never clear from whom._ )

She will not argue with him further today; save the fight for another disagreement. She will not let him have the last word though.

“I still don’t care for this. They’ll be carrying weapons; they do not stand for _my_ Mandalore.”

The wind picks up as the shuttle lands; Satine raises her arm to shield her eyes the dust and dirt that flies up.

When she lowers it, two Jedi come down the ramp and walk towards her. They both make careful bows at her, and the elder of the two introduces them, “Your Grace, I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn; this is Obi-Wan Kenobi. We are here to protect you and serve as necessary.”

\----------

Dinner manages to be formal, despite the nondescript location at a lesser senator’s home. The array of advisors, businesspeople, and diplomats assemble, hungry more for news than for food. They all want to speak to Master Jinn. The last time he was on Mandalore was the war and they want to hear of the latest events on Coruscant. He deftly responds to their inquiries, but it takes up the bulk of the conversation.

Satine leans back in her chair, surveying the men and women before her over the rim of her glass, resting on the two Jedi. She supposes they are respectable enough, but it is hard to read their emotions. The training of, ah, _peacekeepers_.

The elder Jedi projects an aura of dependability and firmness, but it still rankles that he has actively waged war on Mandalore. Now if only that war would end. She might ask him how her father dealt with weapons on a pacifist planet, although she does not want to appear uncertain in her decisions.

She considers the younger. He remains silent throughout; observing the table as she does. They are of about an age. It has been awhile since she’s truly interacted with a peer, other than her younger brother; her time is dominated by elder statesmen.

Of course, she can see he is more serious than her brother; along the lines of the endless parade of politicians with which she deals. Even with the civil unrest, he finds a way to enjoy himself.

Not that she minds being more serious. She likes serving her people; she wants to serve them. But it is lonely and trying, especially for one so young.

She wonders if she will get to know these two men better and dismisses the idea. They have a job, as does she. There is no time for personal matters.

When his eyes fall on her; she realizes she’s been looking far too long; they both quickly look away.

\----------

She becomes accustomed to having them both with her, as she has grown accustomed to rougher living. Meals are spare; accommodations are few and far between. She yearns for Sundari; it is more than its feather beds, it is the promise of what she can accomplish for the system.

She speaks with Master Jinn occasionally; mostly on innocuous things – the weather. It is farcical, but she does not care. She will not discuss the war and he does not broach it.

The padawan hangs back.

On the rare occasion they aren’t hiding, she makes every effort to speak with her people. She speaks of Mandalore; what it means for the history of the galaxy, but more importantly, what it will mean to them. Many eye the Jedi with suspicion.

Master Jinn and the padawan’s presence undermine everything. How can her ministers – purportedly as committed to nonviolence as she – condone this? It makes the people uncomfortable; it makes her uncomfortable. She must lead by example. She is failing to do so.

“Hypocrite.”

A serious situation arises far out in the provinces. A pocket of nameless dissenters gather; blowing up several recently rebuilt iron refineries. Symbols of a Mandalore restoring its place are reduced to smoking rubble. She boldly announces that she will meet with those who lost their livelihood as a result; immediately the present council members clamor that she must not go, for fear of another attack.

“Oh yes, bring Jedi in to protect me, but do not allow me to speak with the men and women who are working their hardest to survive, as well as restore Mandalore’s reputation.”

Master Jinn speaks, “I will go. I will assess the damage and report back to Your Grace. I have dealt with people like this before. If I encounter them, perhaps I can ease the situation.”

What barely passes for a council rises to protest, but it is not because they would prefer Satine to go. No – they would rather he stayed as continued security.

Anticipating their objections, Master Jinn waves a hand. “My padawan will remain.”

\----------

Satine is fuming as she readies herself for bed that evening.

How dare they? She may be inexperienced, but she certainly will learn nothing sequestered away. She is lost in her thoughts and frustrations; she does not immediately hear the voices softly speaking outside her sleeping quarters ( _storage closet_ ).

“But why not, Master?”

“Her council would prefer it that way.”

“Well, I think it’s rather foolish.”

“And that is why you listen to me, not them.”

“Of course he wants to go and see the supposed action,” Satine thinks bitterly, as she pulls herself into bed.

( _He speaks of her being held back._ )

\----------

It takes several days to acclimate herself to just one Jedi. With Master Jinn away, Padawan Kenobi can no longer trail behind. She speaks to him even less than she did with his Master. He, apparently, prefers his own thoughts.

After nearly two weeks, she cannot stand it anymore. They have not eaten in two days and negotiations with the unions are going poorly. It makes her edgy. They now share a dusty, dimly lit room in Enceri. He’s focusing intently on the wall; hand on chin, deliberately not looking at her. He’s sitting so still, he might be a statue.

He may be a keen observer, but the wall cannot be that interesting.

“I’m afraid this must all be terribly boring for you.”

If he was startled by her speaking, he makes no indication of it.

“No, Your Grace.”

She will have him say more than that by the end of the day. She brings up the most banal subject.

“What was your childhood like?”

“Training, mostly, Your Grace.”

Is that the greatest number of words he can string together? She persists, undeterred.

“Have you been with the Jedi that long? What about your family?”

“I never knew them, Your Grace.”

This makes her terribly sad. Perhaps if she speaks about hers, he will be more open. Despite her exacerbated mood, she realizes she should be more hospitable. It’s not his fault he was assigned here.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to not know one’s family. My brother and I are very close. He’s almost a year younger than me and cannot take anything seriously, unfortunately, but I love him all the same. My fa – ” She stops short upon seeing him shifting uncomfortably.

Although she knows she shouldn’t, genuine curiosity gets the better of her. She’ll never know otherwise.

“Have you ever killed someone?”

She immediately flushes at her own boldness. No wonder they all think she is too inexperienced.

To her surprise, he speaks.

“I take comfort in the fact that some deaths ensure the safety of the Republic. My duty, as is the duty of every other Jedi, is to make sure there is peace in the galaxy.” Belatedly, “Your Grace.”

He didn’t answer, so much as evade. Her question was rude; she shouldn’t have expected anything else.

He speaks again, for the first time in a month, without prompting.

“I admire your commitment to your Mandalore, truly, Your Grace. It is not easy to maintain peace without a blade. Many others in your position would have ceded to fighting long ago and even more would have preferred to delegate from a safe distance.”

She smiles broadly at him. His small bit of reassurance is more than she’s received from any of the council since becoming duchess.

“You know, my name is Satine; not Your Grace.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

\----------

She ( _and the Jedi_ ) is still hiding in Enceri a few days later. They remain in the room and hear Prime Minister Almec speaking with the few councilors in the hall after disbanding a meeting. The pair freeze in place – the lingering men and women do not realize the two of them can hear.

“The Desh Mining Union might finally be willing to compromise and reach a settlement. They wish to meet with a representative soon.”

“Whomever we send, it shouldn’t be the Duchess. Not with only one Jedi and a padawan at that.”

“I agree. Perhaps you should meet with one of them tonight, Merrik, discreetly. Soon we can put this town behind us, another day closer to Sundari.”

Their voices become more distant as they disperse.

Obi-Wan looks over at Satine hesitantly, bracing himself for a small explosion. Her anger is quiet, but palpable, as one who has been pushed too far. There is desperation as well.

“That is it. I’m following Merrik tonight to find out about this settlement. I cannot rely on filtered intelligence anymore from these so-called advisors. If they cannot trust me to meet with Mandalorians, my own people, I doubt they’re giving me the whole truth about anything.”

Almost an afterthought she says, “You’re coming with me.”

“It would be better to exercise caution, Your Grace. Let Merrik speak with them tonight, and then perhaps you may speak with them tomorrow. Make a strong argument that you must meet with the miners immediately, but let the council have a first look.”

“Oh, and I suppose my being duchess of the system isn’t a strong enough argument for them? And now _you’re_ presuming to advise me.”

Would that anyone would see where she was standing from.

Tentatively, “If you intend to find out about this threat tonight, Your Grace, I will come with you. It’s my duty after all.”

She softly replies, “And this is no less mine.”

They look at each other. It is decided.

\----------

Sneaking in and out of places has become more natural over the past few months. However, hiding from ones’ friends, as well as one’s enemies makes it more complicated.

The place Merrik chooses to meet with the union leader is filled with smoke and the sound of clattering glasses. Unfortunately, there are not enough customers to truly hide either Satine or Obi-Wan from his view, and the cloaks just make them look suspicious.

To Obi-Wan’s surprise, she grabs him by the arm and pulls both of them into what turns out to be a storage closet. It’s cramped, but it will do. She has a perfect view of Merrik and the empty seat next to him. She’s rather pleased with her newfound eavesdropping skills.

Her companion is less thrilled with their current position. Aware of how closely they are pressed up against each other, Obi-Wan attempts to make himself as small as possible. His efforts are in vain.

“This is really the largest hiding place you could find?”

It is the first time she has heard him flustered. Less focused on the task at hand, she realizes, yes, they are close.

Very close.

She begins to ask if he has a better idea, but stops when she sees that the mysterious dissenter has arrived.

“The DMU does not to seek to impose on Mandalore, weak as it is in its current state. We simply have to be recognized as a legitimate trade body and we want ten percent more of the revenues; don’t let the ports scrape so much off of our work. We have no interest in operating with the Republic, same as the Duchess – us unioners can at least agree with that.”

Merrik and the miner do not leave for some time. When the bar is close to empty, Satine sees an opening to sneak out from their position undetected and makes a move to leave when the bartender turns his back. Obi-Wan follows close behind her.

“HEY! What were you doing in here?!” The bartender eyes them suspiciously. “Can’t be selling my finest liquors to kids. They’d shut me down for that.” Seeing they had just emerged from his mop closet, he grins lazily. “Oh, I get it.”

Embarrassed, Satine moves to pull her hood closer over her face, but she isn’t quick enough.

Realization dawns in the man’s eyes. “Hey wait a second –”

Faster than the man can react, Obi-Wan pins his hand down to the bar. Satine thinks he’s going for his lightsaber, but he simply waves his hand in front of the man’s face.

“There were no youth in your bar tonight. You will not speak of anything you saw.”

“There were no youth in my bar tonight. I will not speak of anything I saw,” the bartender mumbles.

Just as quickly as he moved across the bar, he moves back towards Satine and gently pushes her towards the door.

“I prefer to talk first before I use my lightsaber. And just because I’ve fought doesn’t mean I don’t believe in peace, Satine.”

\----------

“First order of business, Your Grace. I met with a member of –”

“The Desh Mining Union was always a friend to my father, Councilor Merrik. Mandalore will renew their contract formally when we return to Sundari, as well as a _fifteen_ percent increase on their cuts. Other planets are always in need of desh for droid production. We have a wealth of it, why should those who ensure that we send it off-planet not partake in that wealth? I am the Duchess of the Mandalore; they should speak to me first.”

She can see Obi-Wan off to the side, barely containing a smile. She smiles inwardly.

In spite of it all, she’s beginning to admire him.

\----------

After Enceri, they are not boarded in the same room, but Satine and Obi-Wan speak more freely. Most of the time, it is just the two of them ducking in and out of small, run-down towns. Despite appearances, they are both young and unsure.

She speaks of fear of failing her people.

“What if the Republic pressures Mandalore to join? What if this fighting never ends and I cannot stop it?” _What if they see me break?_

He speaks of fear of failing the Council.

“What if I am not appointed master? What if I fail a mission and someone is hurt, or worse?” _What if they see me break?_

\----------

One day, she almost jokes that at least he doesn’t have any pressure to marry. She becomes uncharacteristically shy at the thought of it.

\----------

He kisses her first.

It surprises her, but she is glad that one of them had the courage to do it.

“I am so sorry, Satine, I shouldn’t have done that, it’s not fair to you –”

She silences him with another kiss.

\----------

For the first time in a long while, Satine feels her age. Although Obi-Wan has been duty-bound his whole life, he feels it too. Stealing kisses becomes something of a game for them: before meetings, after meetings, outside her bedroom door. It is in darkened corridors where they are not seen by her people, where the war cannot reach them.

He teases that it is all highly unorthodox.

Late at night, when they should be tired after hours of walking or standing in a cramped transport, they sit and talk, truly talk.

He doesn’t wear his lightsaber. She asks why, citing that he is being remiss in his duties as a bodyguard.

“But it makes you uncomfortable. Besides, if your Mandalore truly is to be a peaceful place, there’s no need.”

Satine feels her whole heart fill.

\----------

Master Jinn returns; they are awoken from their hazy dream – the dream that has kept the harsh reality at bay. For the time, the rogue Mandalorian presents no threat to her person and it is time the Jedi return to Coruscant.

In her room that night, absent of Obi-Wan, she stares into her reflection in the window and it is abundantly clear to her.

She loves him.

That is the simple part. The debate that battles in her mind is less so. Forever ago, he said it wasn’t fair to her. No, it wasn’t, but to tell him wouldn’t be fair to him either. They are both committed to their causes; she cannot make him abandon his whole world, the only life he’s ever known.

But saying nothing, lying, isn’t fair either. She will be honest. She will tell him in the morning, whatever the cost.

It is a blind leap, but one she thinks she might be able to take if he came with her.

\----------

Promises at night look harsher in the light of day. The words stick in her throat.

Many say that New Mandalore is made up of cowards. For her part, she thinks they are right.

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
